I hate ovulating. All I want to do is have sex with any man walking by. I can’t stand it. I question all my thoughts, ideals, motivations, current life; all because of some damn hormones that want me to answer the call.

Last night, my keys ended up locked in my car. When I finally admitted that I wouldn’t be able to get in my car by myself, I called my insurance. They promptly sent out an independent contractor that opened my car in about 1 minute and all I could think about was taking this complete stranger home. I wanted that guy so completely, I noticed every detail of his body. His hands. His neck. His scruffy face. His lean muscles. His voice. His face and where it could be buried in the nape of my neck as he pounded into me. Oh. . . I surmised complete satisfaction in no time.

I don’t know what I was thinking. I was so pissed off at my ovaries. I was in a bad mood all night and angry with myself. This sort of thing has been happening for several months. I recognized what is going on. I understand why I want to get fucked. I know all about the wonders of one night stands.

Thing is, I’m in no position to act on these irresponsible impulses. My life is full and complicated. I just need to get through the next several days and lose that business card. Damn.